Tranquilize
by breathing is over-rated
Summary: Sherlock's having a mental breakdown and John is called to deal with it. Post-Reichenbach. Rated because I'm paranoid.


**AN- **This fic is post-Reichenbach but doesn't really mention anything about it.

Disclaimers: I don't own Sherlock. The song is Tranquilize by The Killers. (That mean's I don't own it)

Summary: Sherlock's having a mental breakdown and John is called to deal with it.

Enjoy  
>x<p>

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><p><strong><span>Tranquilize<span>**

'John?' The phone buzzed. John Watson sighed.

'Yes, Lestrade, what is it. I am at work you know.' He replied slightly annoyed.

'I know John, I wouldn't call you if it wasn't serious. It's Sherlock. He's having a meltdown. We got him back to Baker Street but you need to get here. Now.' The Inspector said, his words only just more coherent than a slurry. The doctor didn't have to be told twice. He dashed out of his room and to the front desk, slipping into his jacket as he ran.

'Claire, I'm needed back home. Family emergency.' He yelled as he passed. The woman nodded, she had become used to Dr Watson leaving without so much as a five minute warning but something was different this time. Her woman's intuition told her that something serious was happening in 221b, or wherever that crazy flatmate of his was.

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><p>Greg Lestrade was standing outside the flat when John arrived. The man grimaced and stepped aside to allow him up to his home.<p>

'What happened?' John asked as they climbed the stairs.

'I don't know. He was looking over a case, multiple homicides, when he just broke down. I got him home before anyone could notice.' Greg replied. The soldier steeled himself and nodded to the DI.

'You best go, I'll handle this.' He said in hushed tones. Lestrade seemed relieved by this as he made a half-hearted attempt to stay before taking off, back in the direction of Scotland Yard.

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><p>Now alone, the doctor opened the door and stepped inside. Sherlock was huddled in the furthest corner from the door of his sofa. His knees were pulled up to his chin.<p>

'Sherlock?' John asked quietly. The detective seemed not to hear him, instead he mumbled words under his breath.

'Time it tells living in my home town. Wedding bells they begin easy.' He laughed bitterly and turned to John, his tone was dark and almost sinister. He stood up and made his way over in an over-confident swagger.

'Live it down, baby don't talk that much. Baby knows, but baby don't tease me.' John was slightly taken back by this but he had survived his flatmate so far and he was determined that this wasn't going to defeat him. The detective grabbed his hand, dragging him to the door.

'In the park we could go walking,' He stated, stopping before they actually left the room and turning to face his flatmate.

'Drown in the dark or we could go sailing. On the sea.' His voice was flowing freely but his mind was clearly not entirely with him. John was beginning to worry.

'I'm here, Sherlock.' He said, not really sure what he was meant to say. He'd say anything to get the man to stop. Sherlock barked a laugh.

'Always here, always on time. Close call, was it love or was it just easy?' He asked bitterly. _Love? _Before John could reply to this outburst, the detective continued.

'Money talks when people need shoes and socks. Steady boys, I'm thinking she needs me.' Sherlock's hands were up in the position for surrender. The doctor grabbed his flatmate and forced him to remain still. The consulting detective struggled.

'I was just sipping on something sweet-' He half-sobbed into the blond doctors shoulder.'-I don't need political process.' With a swift kick and shove, Sherlock was free again, and pacing frantically about the room.

'I got this feeling that they're gonna break down the door.' He yelled at John, the way he did when he was trying to get someone to understand.

'I got this feeling that they're gonna come back for more!' His voice was getting more and more worked up and he stopped suddenly, turning to face John dead on and yet seeming to look straight through him.

'See I was thinking that I lost my mind. But it's been getting to me all this time. And it don't stop dragging me down.' The consulting clutched at his head, pulling his dark curls as if they were venomous snakes. Finally, John could stand it no longer and he raced forward, pulling his flatmate in close and forcing them both down onto the sofa, not breaking the awkward cuddle.

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><p>After a moment or two, Sherlock seemed to be on the verge of calming down. He had his head tucked into the crook of the soldier neck but was still mumbling against John's tanned skin.<p>

'Silently reflection turns my world to stone. Patiently correction leaves us all alone. And sometimes I'm a travel man. But tonight this engine's failing.' He whimpered. John caressed the spindly man's back in an attempt to comfort him.

'Tell me want's wrong, Sherlock' He pleaded, not actually expecting a reply.

'I still hear the children playing.' Sherlock whispered. He pulled away abruptly, sitting up straight as he chanted in a childlike voice;

'Kick the can, kick the can, skip and blackjack. Steal a car and ring a round-rosey. Rock and roll, candyland, bogeyman. Run away and give me your sneakers.' John didn't quite know what to do. What could he do? While he was busy planning his course of action, his flatmate began on another rant.

'Acid rain, when Abel looked up at Cain,We began the weeping and wailing.' Aside from being slightly surprised that Sherlock even knew about Abel and Cain, John decided that the consultant was making decidedly more sense this time.

'A hurried high from pestilence, pills and pride,It's a shame, we could of gone sailing.' Wondering what was with the whole 'sailing' thing, the doctor made a mental note to check the flat through for drugs the nest time he was able.

'But heaven knows. Heaven knows everything. Tranquilize.' The last word was uttered as a sort of command. John lightly grabbed Sherlock's hand, the man whipped his head round so they stared eye to eye.

'I got this feeling that they're gonna break down the door. I got this feeling that they're gonna come back for more.' Sherlock whispered, the words getting harsher as he spoke.

'See I was thinking that I lost my mind. But it's been getting to me all this time. And it don't stop dragging me down.' John tried to get him to stop. He should have called Mycroft a long time ago but he didn't want that pompous git sneering at his brother and saying what would have probably been a very witty line about how he knew Sherlock was going to snap eventually.

'Silently reflection turns my world to stone, Patiently correction leaves us all alone.' The consultant snivelled, gripping the doctors jumper and pushing himself against it.

'And sometimes I'm travel man. But tonight this engine's failing.' Sherlock was now curled up against John, who he had forced back onto the sofa when he'd pressed himself against him.

'I still hear the children playing. Dead beat dancers come to us and stay.' He cried softly into the wool. The doctor patted his back then let his hand rest there like a protective shield, blocking them from the world.

'Cause I don't care where you've been. And I don't care what you've seen.' John whispered gently.

'We're the ones who still believe. And we're looking for a page-' His fingers rubbed small circles in Sherlock's back as he spoke in as calming a voice as he could muster.

'-In that lifeless book of hope. Where a dream might help you cope. With the Bushes and the bombs are tranquilized.' The detective sighed and snuggled against him, his mind seemingly at rest once again. John watched as his flatmates face slackened, the creases on his face seemingly ironed themselves out, bringing the Sherlock he knew back to him. John kept his arm round his friend as I it were the only thing holding the fragile man together. The detective sighed again in content and drifted between the realms of reality and dreams.

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><p>A creak alerted him to someone at the door and he turned to find the landlady peaking round. He raised a finger to his lips and she nodded.<p>

'I know dearie, it's not the first time poor Sherlock's been like this. I was never able to calm him down though. Are you sure there's not something between you? You don't have to answer that, it's not my place.' The woman bumbled quietly. 'Anyway, I'll make you some tea, you look warn out dear.' John smiled at her and she bustled into the kitchen then he turned back to his flatmate. Sometimes, John wished that all this had never happened. Everything seemed fine before Sherlock- before Sherlock had disappeared. Now the detective was back but he couldn't help feeling that his Sherlock was still out the somewhere. Stuck, trying to find a way home. The man in his arms fidgetted slightly and John smiled. What was he thinking? This was his Sherlock. Only this was his Sherlock with the masks pealed away. This man was human.

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><p><strong>AN-<strong> So what did you think? Love it, hate it, burn it now and never speak of it again? I don't know these things unless you review.

B  
>x<p> 


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